


use your heart while it's beating

by disgruntledkittenface



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Boys Kissing, Brief comeplay, Canon Compliant, Dom/sub Undertones, Flirting, Fluff and Smut, Hailee Steinfeld (mentioned) - Freeform, Hand Jobs, Light BDSM, M/M, Shawn Mendes (mentioned) - Freeform, check-ins and consent but kink might be considered under negotiated, soft dom Niall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-18 07:35:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16113806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disgruntledkittenface/pseuds/disgruntledkittenface
Summary: Nick’s not entirely sure how he ended up at a driving range being told that he’s “better than Shawn, at least, but don’t tell him I told you that.”He’s also very much not complaining.





	use your heart while it's beating

**Author's Note:**

  * For [renlyne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/renlyne/gifts).



> I hope you like this, renlyne! I’ve been wanting to write Nick/Niall for awhile now and I LOVED your prompt; I physically couldn’t stop myself from claiming it. I set this close to Biggest Weekend 2018, since that Niall is A LOT shall we say, but some timing and details are smudged to fit. A lot of their dynamic was inspired by what’s now a vague recollection of Nick saying he likes to be told what to do when he's flying, so I hope you are up for it <3 as always thanks to my betas, the wind beneath my wings, all remaining mistakes are entirely my own

Nick’s not entirely sure how he ended up at a driving range being told that he’s “better than Shawn, at least, but don’t tell him I told you that.”

He’s also very much not complaining. 

*

“Oi, Grimmy!”

Nick whips his head in the direction of the shout, peering through the chaos backstage to find Niall Horan striding over to him, guitar in one hand. They do a laddy, one-armed hug when Niall reaches him, due to said guitar, and Nick wonders, like he has every time he’s seen solo artist Niall, when exactly he grew into… all this. 

He looks like a proper popstar, kit out in coordinating blue button-down and trousers, like some kind of Frank Sinatra upgrade for millennials. Right down to the clear blue eyes, even. Nick half listens as Niall starts chatting to him about golf, of all things, admiring his brunette quiff. Maybe that’s when Nick started to notice the difference, the brown hair–

“Up for it?”

Up for it? Fuck. Up for what? 

“Yeah, mate,” Nick exclaims, sounding very convincing if he does say so himself. “Sounds sick.”

“Alright,” Niall says happily, all confidence with his trademark cackle before a soft smile breaks on his face.

He seems mildly surprised and Nick is torn between feeling oddly endeared and wondering what he could have possibly agreed to. What had Niall been on about when Nick tuned out? Golf… something? Something to do with golf.

Honestly, Nick can’t be blamed for tuning out. 

“Here, hand over your phone,” Niall says, setting his guitar down and reaching out for the phone Nick is grasping in his hand. He doesn’t hand it over to just anyone. “I’ll put my number in, text myself so I have it.”

And Nick supposes Niall isn’t just anyone, he’s Nick’s current ranking number one favorite former member of 1D and someone Nick genuinely enjoys being around, so he hands over his phone. Watching Niall’s sure fingers fly over the screen, Nick wonders what’s gotten into him today. He can admit it, he finds Niall fit as fuck at the moment, but he’s normally not in the habit of chasing straight boys. 

“Right, here you go,” Niall says, looking up and handing out the phone. Nick spies a pair of sunglasses in the front pocket of his button-down and hopes Niall isn’t planning on putting them on; everyone knows sunglasses make you at least ten percent more attractive and that’s not something Nick is prepared to deal with just now, as his mind is wandering to places he normally doesn’t allow it. “Glad you said yes, wasn’t too sure of it if I’m honest.” 

“Looking forward,” Nick blusters, pocketing his phone and racking his brain for a vague enough question to try and elicit some details of their mysterious plans together without giving away that he doesn’t have a clue.

“It’s a date,” Niall grins, making unflinching eye contact. Well, Nick is tempted to flinch. He’s probably reading into it. Definitely reading into it. 

Probably?

Christ, it’s been years since Nick had to try and parse whether date meant actual date or if it was a figure of speech. When it comes to actual dates, he’s usually the one taking charge and doing the asking, and of someone he’s sure swings his way.

He’s floundering for a reply when Fiona approaches, half business with her clipboard and half unabashed delight to see Niall. 

Nick can relate.

“Fi!” Niall exclaims, drawing her into a bear hug. Nick watches as Fiona basks in Niall’s glow. He’s not jealous she got a proper hug. Not one bit.

“How are ya?” Fiona asks when Niall (finally) pulls away. “Biggest Weekend! First time on your own, yeah? Exciting, innit?”

They chat for a mo’ as Nick surreptitiously pulls his phone out to see what Niall had texted to himself. Before he has a chance to read the message, someone else on clipboard duty, an assistant Nick’s not familiar with, comes over with a two-minute warning for Niall.

“Well, excuse me, lovely folks,” Niall laughs, picking up his guitar with one hand and reaching for his sunglasses with the other. Oh, no. “Got me a show to do.”

He nods at Fiona and then he looks over to Nick, holds his eye for a moment, and winks. He fucking winks.

Alright, there’s no way Nick’s reading into  _ that, _ is there? 

Or is he? 

Nick manages a strangled, “bye, bye, bye, bye,” as Niall puts on the sunglasses and cements Nick’s fate. Christ, when did Nick get so easy for a wink from a fit lad? He scrubs a hand over his face, sternly telling himself not to answer that.

But honestly, how could he have known when he woke up this morning that he’d end the day fancying not-so-little-anymore Niall Horan rotten?

Nick finds himself pulled to the side of the stage like a magnet as the echoes of Greg’s introduction travel through the crowd. Fiona joins him and they watch as Niall’s set starts, even though they both probably have a hundred other places to be.

Suddenly Nick remembers the phone in his hand and pulls up the message he still hasn’t read yet.

_ Nicks phone . up for driving range ! see ya Tuesday then _

Nick looks to Fiona in horror but before he can get any words out, the opening of  _ Slow Hands _ starts and Nick’s eyes are drawn toward the stage. Fiona is swaying and humming along next to him like this is just any other day and Nick has to suffer in silence as Niall sings and struts and…  _ thrusts. _

Christ.

“What’s got into you?” Fiona elbows him. “You’ve got that look on like when Diplo likes one of your Instagrams.”

“Fiona!” Nick hisses exasperatedly. He pulls her a bit to the side and drops his voice. “Right, listen. I have a problem. I have problems, plural. You have to help me.”

He can sense Fiona rolling her eyes as he unlocks his phone to show her the text, but he can’t be bothered to admonish her just now; he needs help.

“Look at this,” he says lowly, holding the phone out. “He was talking to me about golf before you showed up and I wasn’t listening  _ because he was talking about golf, _ Fiona, but then he said ‘Up for it?’ and I said yes and now look at this,” he jabs the phone screen with his finger, “I think we’re going to a driving range together, what is that, you play golf at a driving range, yeah? And the worst part is he said ‘It’s a date,’ and I think he might have meant that  _ it’s a date.” _

Fiona fixes a skeptical stare at him.

“I know, alright,” Nick says in a rush. “I know, I thought he was straight, and he has at least two love interests running around here backstage, right?”

“I actually haven’t seen Hailee yet,” Fiona muses, glancing about.

“Excuse me, friend in crisis over here,” Nick snaps. “But then he winked at me.  _ Me. _ Help me, I’ve got to sort this out before Tuesday.” 

“I mean,” Fiona starts, looking back down at the phone.

“I know,” Nick interrupts, “golf could be just lads, right? It’s probably usually just lads. But this is Niall we’re talking about, maybe he makes all his dates play golf. No, you’re right, it could be lads. But what if it isn’t?”

“That’d be a good thing, right?” Fiona asks. “I mean, you wouldn’t say no, you’re well up for it.”

“Fiona!” This is outrageous. Nick is outraged.

“You are!” she insists. “Don’t deny it.”

“I know I am,” Nick whispers, “but you didn’t have to say so.”

“Sorry?”

“Thank you, I accept your apology,” Nick says airily. He taps at his phone, about to Google what exactly a driving range is, when Fiona interrupts him.

“You know,” she says thoughtfully, “maybe that’s why he was in your DMs the other day.”

Nick’s head snaps up. “What?”

“Him trolling you about being on holiday too much,” Fiona shrugs. “Maybe he was flirting.” 

Her headset buzzes for attention, and she busies herself checking her clipboard, suddenly all business, and just walks away, abandoning Nick in his time of need. 

Christ, what if Nick is going on a date? With Niall Horan?  _ At a driving range? _

*

It had taken Nick approximately one hundred years to find some time and a hotel room to himself, and the moment he shuts the door behind him, he pulls up Harry’s number. He can’t be arsed to check the time where Harry is (South America, he thinks, but how can he be expected to keep track?); desperate times call for desperate phone calls to best mates.

“’Lo?” 

Harry was definitely sleeping, but Nick valiantly pushes through the guilt.

“Am I going on a date with Niall, or did he ask me to go to the driving range with him in a laddy way?”

“What? Nick?” Harry asks, sounding a bit more alert. “What about Niall?”

“Harold,” Nick sighs heavily, massaging his temple. “I think Niall asked me out to a driving range and I accidentally said yes and I have no clue what’s going on, help. Help me. Help.”

“Where did you see Niall?” Harry asks slowly. 

Nick quickly recounts the events of that afternoon, a bit too quickly going by the amount of follow-up questions Harry peppers into the conversation. It’s maddening; Nick had called him for answers and all he’s getting are questions.

“And then he winked?” Harry asks slowly, like he’s talking to a small child. Nick adjusts his mental ranking of favorite former members of 1D to drop Harry down to four.

“Yes, I swear it was a wink,” Nick says witheringly. He pauses for a moment, then pushes ahead. “Him and Hailee Steinfeld… that’s not, like, a thing, is it?”

“As far as I know, no,” Harry replies. Nick can practically  _ see _ him shrugging, like this isn’t a matter of vital importance. “They took a trip to some golf tournament thing lately, but the last time I heard, this was on our email chain ’cause I–”

“I know you don’t have WhatsApp, Harry,” Nick interrupts. “Get to the point.”

“–it was just, like, best friends or summat,” Harry finishes, as though Nick hadn’t spoken. “I think it’s just neither of them care, really, if people make assumptions or anything.”

Well, that makes sense. As basically a member of the press, Nick knows the value of free promo.

“What about Shawn Mendes?” Nick asks suddenly. “Are they…” 

“Oh, yeah,” Harry says easily, dashing all of Nick’s rapidly growing hopes. “Well…”

“Well, what?” Nick practically shrieks, his patience finally running completely out.

“Well, everyone knows that Shawn is in love with Niall,” Harry supplies helpfully. Oh. Well then. “Except Niall.”

_ Oh. _ Well then.

“Harry, we’re friends, right?” Nick says, determined to get him on track.

“Best friends,” Harry agrees easily.

“So, best friend,” Nick continues, deserving a medal for his restraint, “are you really going to make me  _ ask _ if Niall talks about me?”

“Oh,” Harry says, finally getting it. “Right, sorry. It’s just, Niall plays things pretty close to his chest, you know?”

“Does he?” Nick asks, scrubbing a hand over his face. He’s knackered, romantic intrigue really takes it out of him.

“Think about it,” Harry replies. “Like… do you even know who his album’s about?”

And fuck if Nick doesn’t. Hm. 

“So he doesn’t talk about me?” he can’t stop himself from asking. 

“I don’t think so?” 

“Right, well, you’ve been no help at all,” Nick concludes.

“Hey,” Harry whines. “’S the middle of the night here, think I’m doing pretty good under the circumstances.”

“You should have been up anyway,” Nick retorts. “What kind of popstar are you, sleeping at night?”

“’M an amazing popstar,” Harry replies. He’s yawning, for Christ’s sake. “Did you need anything else, or can I go back to sleep now?” 

“No, one more thing,” Nick says, an urgent thought occurring to him. “What does one  _ wear _ to a driving range?”

Harry cackles so gleefully for so long that Nick is tempted to hang up on him. 

“Har-ry,” Nick whines. “This is serious. Not all of us have a full-time team of stylists and an endless supply of Gucci at our fingertips.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Harry wheezes down the lines. “Just pop in Topman’s and get a polo shirt or summat.”

Nick hangs up on him. 

*  

Nick hadn’t been able to stomach the thought of a polo shirt, even if this does turn out to be an actual date – scratch that,  _ especially _ if this does turn out to be an actual date – so he showed up to the driving range in loose trousers and Vans (just call him Sporty Spice), paired with a striped tee and sheer purple cardigan (he can never fully suppress the inner Posh, it turns out). 

A concierge shows him to their bay (Nick is learning so much that he never wanted to know), where Niall awaits him with a grin. He’s fully embraced polo shirt culture; kit out in crisp coordinating blues again, his polo shirt paired with knee-length shorts. Nick admires the white belt breaking up the monochrome for a split second (seems like Niall has a dash of Posh in him as well) before holding one arm out, expecting a laddy hug again.

“Alright, Grimmy?” Niall laughs, pulling him in for a real hug. Nick goes easily, letting himself be wrapped in Niall’s warm embrace. 

It’s a good hug, really good. It somehow makes Nick all fluttery but comforted at the same time, and it lasts long enough for him to breathe Niall in. Depending on whether or not this is a date, Nick is either in heaven or hell because Niall smells like a man. Not boy, which can have its own charms, but  _ man. _ There’s the barest hint of citrus to him, but the sweetness is cut by a heady, almost woodsy fragrance that Nick wishes he could drink in to his heart’s content, but apparently he’s here to practice golf and not creepily scent his maybe date.

Nick pulls back first, always one to leave before he can be left, and looks around their bay. 

“This is dead nice, Niall,” he remarks, taking in the private area, complete with sofa and another concierge who’s probably waiting to take drink orders.

“Yeah, been here a fair few times,” Niall replies, his easy laughter serving to calm Nick’s nerves. He’s just so comfortable in his own skin; Nick loves how easy it is to be around him. “Want a pint?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Nick answers distractedly, noticing the bag of golf clubs propped up by the coffee table. “Please.”

He wonders vaguely why there’s a need for so many different clubs in Niall’s bag – don’t you just need the one? – as Niall relays their order, registering somewhere in the back of his mind that the idea of a date choosing what he might like for him is sitting better with him than he might have guessed. 

“Right then,” Niall says, rubbing his hands together and quirking an eyebrow at Nick. “You ready?”

Nick’s mouth goes dry and all he can do is stare stupidly at the confusing man in front of him.

Oh,  _ golf. _ Right.

“Yes,” Nick finally manages. “Yes, golf, let’s golf. Do some golfing. Some real proper golf stuff coming up.”

Niall cackles and turns toward the bag of clubs, selecting one and pulling off the little protective cover or whatever it is on it.

“Got to take off its sock first,” Nick nods seriously. “Yes, always my first step as well.”

“Smart,” Niall agrees. He walks up to the… well, Nick doesn’t know what it’s called, but wherever you, you know… golf from. Up by the front of their bay.  

If he’s lucky, the fact that this area is called a bay is the only thing Nick will get out of here having learned. About golf, anyway.

The concierge ducks in with their pints and they both call out cheery, “thank you”s, apparently both having been properly raised, then Niall turns his focus back to the golf club in his hands and golf ball he’s produced out of nowhere to set on one of them plastic thingies on the… well, not the ground, but the floor, Nick supposes. They are indoors, after all.

Nick has no interest in understanding the mechanics of what Niall’s doing, so he stealthily watches Niall’s arse instead of all the tedious setup. If he’s in hell, might as well burn. 

“Mind if I take a few turns?” Niall asks, turning to look back at Nick. “Was gonna warm up before you got here, but ran late a bit, only arrived a couple minutes before you did.”

“Sure,” Nick replies eagerly. He plops down on the sofa and picks up his pint glass. “As many as you want, cheers.”

“Cheers,” Niall laughs, turning his attention back to his club and ball.

Nick watches over the rim of his glass as Niall focuses, his face serious and a noticeable difference in the way he’s holding his body, more taut or summat. Nick hates to admit it, even to himself, but Niall is making golf look… sexy. 

If that’s even possible. 

Niall swings the club and his body follows the motion somehow, carrying it through, and he watches as the golf ball sails down the… well, down the range, Nick supposes.

“Atrocious,” Niall mutters, shaking his head and grabbing another golf ball from a bucket that Nick hadn’t properly noticed ’til now.

“What?” Nick asks, confused. He’d hit the ball and it had gone flying, isn’t that what was supposed to happen? “I mean, yeah, honestly, Niall. Came here to see some golf, didn’t I? Get it together, mate.”

Niall cackles and rolls his shoulders before going all serious and sexy again, hitting one ball after another. Nick finds he can’t tear his eyes away, and to an outsider it might look like he’s avidly watching golf but in reality, Nick is barely registering the actual golf, instead imagining how the determination Niall is demonstrating might be applied in, shall we say, other physical pursuits. 

He’s a bit lost in a fantasy about Niall with that serious face on telling Nick what he wants him to do when the man himself walks over to the coffee table and picks up his own pint.

“Out of practice,” Niall grimaces before taking a sip. “Awful.”

“Dreadful,” Nick says mildly. “Better keep at it, take a few more turns, then, there’s a good lad.”

“Nah, you’re up, Grim,” Niall says, shaking his head. “Show me what you got.”

Nick’s mouth goes a bit dry again at that. There’s a part of him that wants to keep the protesting banter going, but there’s a bigger part of him that wants to follow orders.

“Right, good,” Nick manages, getting to his feet. “I did come to play golf, after all.”

He takes the golf club that Niall’s holding out to him and walks over to the bucket of golf balls, fishing one out and setting it on the plastic thingum like Niall did. Trying to mimic Niall’s stance, he stands to the side with his feet shoulder width apart. Hand-eye coordination has never been his strong suit, not in sport anyway, so he sends up a quick prayer to whatever deities might be listening and attempts to swing the club.

The club doesn’t even connect with the ball, it simply whooshes right by it, and Nick can’t even be embarrassed, he has to laugh at himself. Ridiculous, really. Niall’s delighted cackle joins in and Nick’s not bothered in the least; the last person on earth who’d really laugh at someone instead of with them is Niall Horan. Truth be told, Nick is rather pleased to have Niall’s attention on him, to have given him a reason to laugh.

“Don’t think I have the body for golf,” Nick says, once their laughter has trailed off. “Too tall, too gangly.”

“Nah,” Niall dismisses the remark, not unkindly. “No such thing, really, as the right body for golf, plenty of pros are over six feet. It’s just a matter of building up muscle.”

“I work out,” Nick exclaims in protest. “I build up muscle!”

“I know you do,” Niall replies. As Nick puzzles a possible reply to that helpful tidbit of knowledge, Niall gets up and walks over to where Nick is standing. “You just need help with your form.”

Oh, god. Oh,  _ god. _ Is this really happening or did Nick nod off on the sofa and start dreaming? 

“Here,” Niall says softly, coming up behind Nick. He puts his hands on Nick’s hips and gently but firmly guides him into position. “That’s it, just like that. Here, move your feet a couple inches further apart, there ya go.”

Nick’s heart is  _ racing, _ which he takes as a sign that this is really happening and not part of some feverish dream. Niall is so sure, handling Nick just the way he likes but doesn’t come right out and tell very many people, and this is all rather a lot to process. Only two days ago if you had told Nick that he’d find himself on a driving range panting from a few simple instructions from Niall Horan, he’d have told you that you’re a nutter.

Look at him now.

Oh, fuck, Niall is slowly moving his hands from Nick’s hips to adjust his arms, running his fingertips lightly up the underside of Nick’s forearms, a part of Nick’s body that prior to now he never considered the erogenous implications of. 

Safe to say he’s considering them now what with Niall’s slow hands and all. 

Niall gently (but again  _ firmly, _ Christ) wraps his hands around Nick’s wrists, turning them just so, and Nick might actually faint; almost no one knows what a thing gentle but firm hands on Nick’s wrists are for him. Christ. 

“So, now what you’re gonna do,” Niall says, close to Nick’s ear, guiding Nick’s upper body as he moves his own to start swinging, “just like that, smooth, now forward.”

They swing the club forward together and this time it connects with the ball, which goes sailing. Nick watches it go but he has no fucking clue if that was good or not (well, he knows it was good for him); there aren’t proper golf holes, at least any that he can see. 

Mostly what he can see are the compromising images of Niall flooding his mind. 

“That was good,” Niall murmurs, running his hands up and down Nick’s biceps. “Really good.”

Yeah, it was.

To Nick’s dismay, Niall steps back, putting some space in between them. He looks over his shoulder to see Niall smiling easily at him, like they hadn’t just engaged in the most intense round of foreplay of Nick’s life.

“Go on, then,” Niall says, waving a hand at him. “Try again.”

Nick snaps his head forward, leaning to grab another golf ball without moving his legs so he doesn’t forget how Niall had arranged him and straightening up after putting it in place. He very carefully tries to recreate the magic that just happened, and somehow manages to hit the ball on his own this time. Grinning, he looks back at Niall again.

“Well done,” Niall says. “You’re better than Shawn, at least, but don’t tell him I told you that.”

Nick’s still not entirely sure how he ended up at a driving range with Niall comparing his swing to Shawn Mendes,’ but he’s also very much not complaining. Well, maybe about one thing actually.  

“Thanks,” Nick can’t help but frown a bit. Shawn. Hmph. He can’t help the next bit that comes out of his mouth either. “What’s going on there, anyway? With you and Shawn?”

“What?” Niall laughs. “What are you on about, then?”

“You’re shameless flirts around each other,” Nick says, his annoying insecurities all spilling out now that he’s started. He points at Niall. “Don’t deny it! Is there… just, what is that? Is there anything there?”

“I mean, nothing really,” Niall shrugs. “We’re mates. I don’t mind really when he flirts, that’s all just good fun, right? But there’s nothing, you know, romantic between us.”

Niall gives Nick a not-so-subtle onceover, leaning against the rail behind him, and Nick suddenly realizes that Niall didn’t deny anything with Shawn outright because of Shawn’s sex. Not that Nick had really been an expecting a “no homo” type response at this point. But still. 

“I mean, he is my type,” Niall says casually. “Tall, dark hair.”

Nick’s heart starts to race again.

“But he’s young, you know?” Niall continues, like he’s not toying with Nick’s delicate emotions. “And he’s so  _ nice, _ just like extremely Canadian, right? And I like someone who can keep up with me, good for a bit of banter.”

Fuck it.

“Like me,” Nick states, looking Niall directly in his clear blue eyes.

“Like you,” Niall agrees, holding Nick’s gaze.

“You like my banter,” Nick says, somehow keeping his voice even whilst his heart is threatening to beat out of his chest. 

“I like you.”

Nick exhales, confidence buoyed by Niall’s refreshing directness and the way he’s looking Nick up and down like he wants to eat him. 

“So this is a date then,” Nick says rather than asks, though he can hear the slight question in his voice. “A real one.”

“Course it is,” Niall bristles. “I asked you out on a date with me and here we are.”

“I wasn’t really listening at first,” Nick confesses, causing Niall to cackle. “I mean, you were talking about  _ golf, _ for Christ’s sake. That’s no way to chat someone up, Niall.” 

“Got you here, didn’t it?” Niall asks, blue eyes sparkling.

He has a point, actually. 

“So you like me,” Nick repeats, not needing reassurance but rather just liking the sound of it. “You like when we banter. Wait, how come you never took the piss ’cause of the way I mispronounced your last name for, oh, I don’t know, only six years?”

“You always said it wrong, didn’t you?” Niall laughs.

“I still get it wrong,” Nick admits freely. 

“Dunno, never really minded it from you,” Niall shrugs. “Least you don’t call me Neil or spell me name like nail or anything like that.”

The concierge interrupts with another round of pints for them, leaving a food menu in the middle of the coffee table and ducking back out. Nick finally sets the golf club down, glad to be rid of the thing, and they both move to the sofa, sitting not quite on opposite ends but not within cuddling distance. 

Yet. 

“All the luxuries, eh?” Nick asks, taking a sip of his new pint. “You trying to impress me, Niall? Private bay, personal concierge, all the perks of being a world-famous, millionaire popstar.”

“Nah, not really,” Niall laughs. “Didn’t plan it that way, but the privacy tends to work in my favor. And it is nice coming to places like this where they take good care of you, but I’m not really about all the perks nonsense.”

“Oh, yeah?” Nick counters, feeling like he has his flirting groove back. “What’re you about, then?”

“For me, it’s about the music,” Niall says simply. “Always has been. I’d tour shit clubs out of the back of a van if I had to. Might do down the road if things go south.”

From anyone else, Nick would have immediately sniffed out pretension from the words “it’s about the music,” but there’s an undeniable sincerity ringing clear in Niall’s voice.

“So all the amenities aren’t a ploy to impress me, then?” Nick says with a coy smile, tempted to bat his lashes at Niall.

“Nah, that’s not what you’re about either, really,” Niall shrugs, taking a sip of his pint. 

Well, this could be dangerous. And Nick is having a dead nice time, too, now that Niall has laid his cards on the table. He has to ask, though.

“Okay,” Nick nods. “Tell me, what am I about?”

“I mean, sure, you get all sorts of mad skincare treatments,” Niall says easily. “Total waste of money in my opinion but mine’s not the one that counts, is it? And you like going out to fashion do’s and, I don’t know, brunch probably–”

“I won’t hear a word against brunch, Niall Horan,” Nick interrupts. “Brunch is amazing.”

“Fair enough,” Niall laughs. “You like nice things, nothing wrong with that. But that’s not why you like what you do, the perks. Obviously you went into radio because of the music, that’s a given. But with Breakfast, I think you like what you do because you like people. People are interesting to you, you can’t get enough of ’em. You care about the people you get to talk to every day, the people listening at home. That’s what you’re about. So no, I didn’t bring you here to throw money around and impress you. I brought you here because I like you, I’ve liked you for awhile now, and I decided to finally do something about it.”

Nick is gobsmacked. There’s no other word for it. Niall just casually got right to the core of Nick in a way it takes some people years to do. Niall sees straight through him. Nick should be terrified.

Nick isn’t terrified.

“You’ve liked me for awhile?” Nick asks, darting his tongue out to wet his lips. “How long?”

“Not sure, really,” Niall shrugs, tracking the movement of Nick’s tongue with his eyes. “I was seeing someone awhile back, had me heart broken and it took some time to get past it, heal up a bit. People are always asking if it’s sad for me to play songs off the album now, but I’m fine, I got it all out, you know? And I dunno really, it was some time after I was doing alright again, saw you for some promo or other, and just… I’ve always liked you, but it was different. More. You know?”

_ “Yes,” _ Nick answers immediately, thinking of Niall’s Biggest Weekend proper popstar get-up. “Yes, I know exactly what you mean.”

“So I followed you on Instagram,” Niall explains. Ah, so that’s how he knew Nick does in fact work out. “And I started to test the waters a bit, slide into your DMs as the kids would say.”

Oh god, is Nick seriously on a real date with someone who unironically says “as the kids would say”? Liv will never let him hear the end of this if she finds out. 

“And then when I saw you backstage the other day,” Niall continues, looking intently at Nick, “I figured why waste any more time. No reason to, might as well use my heart while it’s beating.”

Nick feels a pang at Niall’s words that he might not have a couple of years ago. Fuck if he doesn’t have a point. 

“You know,” Nick starts, looking down and swirling the remaining beer in his glass before discarding it on the coffee table. “I’m not much of an exhibitionist.”

“Me neither,” Niall says lowly, setting down his glass. 

“So maybe we should get out of here,” Nick remarks, meeting Niall’s eyes before he continues. “This private bay is nice and all, but people can still see in, and I’m thinking they’d get an eyeful if we stay here.”

“Think you’d be right about that,” Niall agrees, and if Nick’s not mistaken his eyes look a bit darker than a moment ago. “Yours?”

“So long as you don’t mind me being up before the sun tomorrow,” Nick answers. As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he realizes that he just took for granted that Niall would stay over. Panic sets in immediately. Fuck, what if he doesn’t… what if that’s not what this is?

“Nah, doesn’t bother me,” Niall replies, standing up and reaching a hand out to Nick. “Alright if I have a lie-in, though? Maybe watch telly with those mad dogs of yours, stick around and you can come back after, grab a bite with me?”

The panic in Nick’s chest is replaced by… well, something else, altogether, Nick’s not sure what. But it feels good. He likes it, he wants to keep feeling it.

He takes Niall’s proffered hand and stands, taken by surprise when Niall pulls him in close. They stare into each other’s eyes for a moment before Niall’s flutter closed and he leans in. Nick meets him with parted lips and practically melts into the kiss. 

It’s not quite a snog (yet) but they stand there for a few minutes, in each other’s space and trading mostly chaste kisses. Nick can taste the faintest hint of the pint on Niall’s lips, feel the light scratch of stubble on his face as Niall presses in even closer. He takes a deep breath in as Niall moves his head slightly to press a kiss to the corner of Nick’s mouth, less worried about seeming creepy now as he lets himself get overwhelmed by Niall’s scent. 

Yes, he had quite lost track of the time as Niall grew from a boy into a man, but he’s definitely reaping the rewards now.

“Right, come on, then,” Niall whispers, tugging lightly at Nick’s hand, which he’s still holding. “Wanna get you alone.”

“Yeah,” Nick breathes, opening the eyes he hadn’t realized were still closed. “Want that.”

Nick lets Niall tug him along as he strides out of their private area and winds through the building to walk outside, nodding as one concierge after another bids them a good night. There’s already a car waiting for them and Niall opens the door for Nick, waving him inside. He manages to croak out his address for the driver before settling back in his seat, completely overwhelmed by the turn of events and Niall’s hand holding his. 

“Can you talk to me?” Nick finally asks softly, unable to take the tension any longer. “About anything really, just distract me, I’m going mad over here.”

Niall grins a bit wickedly at him and Nick is momentarily confused – until he starts prattling on about some golf tournament. To his surprise, Nick isn’t that bothered. He lets Niall’s Irish brogue wash over him, not taking in the words he’s saying but soothed by his voice. 

By the time they reach his, Nick feels calm. Settled. Maybe still nervous, a little tingly. But ready.

The driver gets out and opens the car door for them, shaking hands and wishing them a pleasant evening. Nick makes the mistake of making eye contact with Niall, who winks at him. Cheeky.

They make their way inside and the doggies swarm them, all panting tongues and wriggling bodies. Nick can relate. 

“Why don’t you take them for a wee?” Niall says, his tone suggesting it wasn’t actually a question. “Point me in the direction of your bedroom, I’ll wait for you there.”

Nick swallows, at a loss for words, and points vaguely in the right direction. Niall squeezes his hand and walks up the stairs, seemingly confident that he’ll find the right room without more help than that. Letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, Nick turns his attention to the dogs.

It doesn’t take long to get them sorted, and Nick starts up the steps toward his bedroom, unsure what he’ll find waiting for him and a bit desperate to find out. 

Niall is sitting on the edge of his bed, still fully dressed and resting his elbows on his knees. He’s humming an unfamiliar but pleasing tune, and looks up when Nick stops in the doorway.

“You writing songs about me, Niall Horan?” Nick asks, half joking.

“Maybe I am,” Niall replies seriously, looking Nick up and down. “Maybe I am.”

Niall stands up and reaches a hand out to Nick. 

“Come on, then,” he says with a small smile. “I don’t bite, unless of course you want me to.”

Nick giggles like a schoolgirl but forgets to be embarrassed as he crosses the room and takes Niall’s hand, letting him draw Nick into his space again. Niall reaches his other hand up and slowly caresses the side of Nick’s face.

Nick’s not used to having someone’s attention so intent just on him. It’s a lot to take in, this heady, intense focus, but he finds he  _ loves _ it, can’t get enough of it as his eyes flutter closed.

Niall’s hand slips down the side of Nick’s neck, causing him to shiver slightly, and then he moves both hands to Nick’s shoulders and gently pushes his cardigan off.

“This okay?” Niall whispers.

“Yeah,” Nick breathes, opening his eyes. “I can, um, I can get undressed if you want?”

“No rush, love,” Niall says, and it’s somehow a comfort and a command all at the same time and Nick has to close his eyes again, his body swaying slightly at the rush of desire that courses through him.

Niall kisses him then, not proper on the mouth, but starting on his earlobe and roaming all over Nick’s face and neck as he slowly rucks up his t-shirt before moving back and pulling it off. His hands fall to the button at the top of Nick’s trousers and he flicks his eyes up again in a silent question. Nick nods his consent and Niall undoes the button and flies, pushing the trousers down only to chuckle when he sees Nick’s still got his shoes on.

Before Nick has a chance to say anything, Niall crouches down, running his hands lightly along the backs of Nick’s bare legs and it’s a miracle Nick’s knees don’t buckle. Niall unlaces his shoes, reaching up to move Nick’s hands to steady himself on Niall’s shoulders so Niall can lift off one shoe, then the other, removing the trouser legs at the same time. 

Nick is left in just a pair of skimpy black briefs – he had to be prepared in the case it was an actual date – and Niall straightens up, looking at him hungrily. Nick stands still, meeting Niall’s eyes and feeling exposed in more ways than one, but not caring in the slightest like he might with someone else. 

“Why don’t you lie on the bed?” Niall asks in that same tone, that not-actually-a-question tone that makes Nick weak in the knees. “I’ve got to get my kit off, then I’ll join you.”

Nick nods and moves to the bed, shoving down the duvet and stretching out in the middle. He watches as Niall unhurriedly takes off his clothes and sets them neatly on the chair that Nick usually flings his own clothes onto at the end of the day. Unlike Nick, Niall takes everything off and stalks over to climb onto the bed completely bare.

Nick tries to breathe evenly but it’s near impossible with the way Niall crawls up to hover over his body, his searing eyes meeting Nick’s as he licks his lips. Nick wants to move his hands to Niall’s lean body above him, stroke his flanks, but he’s not sure he’s allowed, a thought that causes his half-hard cock to twitch.

Niall is close enough to feel it against his skin and he smiles down at Nick before bracing himself on one arm and lifting the other to caress Nick’s face gently again.

“You like this, right?” Niall asks softly, looking into Nick’s eyes. “This is all okay?”

“Yes,” Nick nods obediently, basking in the attention. “Yes, please. I want it, I want you, like this.”

“Alright, pet,” Niall soothes, stroking his face lightly. “You can have me like this, can have anything you want really.”

“Just you,” Nick insists, urgent for Niall to know. “Just you, just this.”

At that Niall finally dips his head to kiss Nick, and Nick fucking loses it. He grasps the sheets, still not sure if he’s allowed to touch, and parts his lips to fuck his tongue desperately into Niall’s eager mouth. It all gets a bit hazy after that, Nick lying prone on the sheets for Niall’s taking, gasping and moaning as Niall roams all over his body with his hands and mouth.

The press of their warm skin together is so good, everything is so good, Nick feels he’s gone mental, the pleasure has driven him mad. Niall makes him feel safe enough to completely let go and he loses all of his usual self-consciousness. His body twists and lifts to meet Niall’s every touch, and he doesn’t even try to hide it, the fervor to feel more sensation taking over.

Finally,  _ finally _ Niall moves far enough down his body to nose at Nick’s now fully hard cock through his pants. He darts his tongue out to taste where Nick’s dripping head has wet the fabric and it’s almost painful for Nick to keep still through it, desperate to buck his hips wildly, to chase Niall’s clever tongue.

Niall pulls back to rest on his knees – oh, fuck, he has a bad one, doesn’t he? But Nick watches his face, there’s no trace of discomfort as he kneels, just intense focus on drawing down Nick’s pants to discard them over the side of the bed. Niall looks up at Nick’s face, his lust-blown eyes dark and more intense than Nick’s seen them yet. He moves to lie between Nick’s splayed legs, resting on his elbows and moving his hands to encircle Nick’s wrists.

“Can you be good for me?” Niall asks lowly. “Stay still?”

“Yeah, yes, please,” Nick starts to beg, the words spilling out of him in a rush.

“Alright, love,” Niall says gently but oh so firmly, and Nick automatically responds to his words and his tone, falling silent. 

Hands firm around Nick’s wrists, just enough to hold him in place, Niall bends his head and swirls his tongue around the wet head of Nick’s cock, gathering the precome onto his lips to lick clean before he takes Nick fully into his mouth. Nick gasps quietly, his thighs quivering as he tries to stay still, the wet heat around his cock almost unbearable it feels so good. 

Niall bobs his head up and down, finding a rhythm that keeps Nick at a steady low moan, his head thrown back and eyes clamped shut, trying not to come so he can keep feeling like this, he wants Niall to keep sucking him forever, he wants to feel like he’s about to burst forever, he wants to feel this good  _ forever– _

Niall takes him in deeper and Nick feels the tip of his cock nudge the back of Niall’s throat and suddenly his body seizes up and he’s coming, too blissed-out to berate himself for not being able to warn Niall, who’s swallowing and moving to lick at Nick’s slit, getting him all clean. Jesus. 

Nick melts into the sheets, trying to catch his breath as he watches Niall dab at the head of Nick’s spent cock with his tongue again. Nick twitches, right into Niall’s lower lip, and Niall groans, looking up at Nick darkly.

“Do you have any idea,” Niall practically growls, “how fucking sexy you are? Christ almighty.”

And Niall Horan is quite possibly the only man in the world who could make the words “Christ almighty” go straight to Nick’s still plump cock. 

“Wanna make you come,” Nick says, flexing his wrists in Niall’s hands to test the hold. Niall doesn’t release him just yet, just keeps looking at him with those dark eyes. “Please, wanna make you feel good too, you make me feel so good–”

“Alright, pet,” Niall reassures him, squeezing his wrists one last time before letting go. “You wanna make me feel good?”

Nick nods frantically, loving the feeling of being at Niall’s mercy, waiting for him to decide if Nick can get him off. Niall sits back on his knees again, considering Nick, making up his mind. Oh, god, Nick is going to come out of his skin if he doesn’t say something soon. 

“You’re tired, pet,” Niall concludes. “Look at you, can barely lift your head.”

“No, no, ’m fine, promise,” Nick protests weakly, accidentally proving Niall’s point. “Please–”

“You know what would make me feel good, love?” Niall asks, his placating tone teasing Nick, causing his cheeks to heat up. “Here, make a fist, I want to fuck up into your hand and come all over it, then you can lick it clean, alright?”

Niall’s words burn through Nick’s chest and he rushes to comply as Niall moves to lie next to him on the bed, facing him, Nick’s hand ready for his dick.

“That’s it, love,” Niall praises him. “That’s perfect.”

Nick preens as Niall thrusts his cock into his fist and starts to fuck into it, reveling in the feel of Niall’s hot skin sliding through his, slowly at first before Niall seems to grow frantic, wild. It doesn’t take long before he cries out and starts to come in thick streaks all over Nick’s hand, and Nick realizes how much he must have been getting off on giving Nick directions, sucking him while holding him down. As much as Nick had gotten off on it, if that’s possible. 

Niall opens his eyes, looking at Nick expectantly, his gaze moving from Nick’s face down to his hand and up again. Nick blinks stupidly for a moment before realizing he’s not done getting Niall off yet. He lifts his come-spattered hand and starts to lick it clean, slowly so Niall can watch Nick laving every last drop.

Niall nods approvingly when Nick finishes and gathers him into his arms, and they lie there like that for awhile, with Niall just holding him close. And it’s just nice; it’s not something Nick gets very often. Well. Maybe it’s something he will get a bit more often now. 

“Do you still want to stay?” Nick asks hesitantly. He’s not keen to burst their little afterglow bubble, but he needs to know.

“Yeah, if that’s alright,” Niall says easily before planting a kiss to Nick’s hair. “How’s  _ that _ for a real date for you?”

Nick’s very much not complaining.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! [ fic post](https://disgruntledkittenface.tumblr.com/post/179385265457/use-your-heart-while-its-beating-by) here


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